


The Homoerotic Subtext in A Separate Peace

by LeafStitch



Category: Homestuck
Genre: 'Dirk Is Hal's Tutor' AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, American History, Awkward Dirk Strider, First Crush, Hal's a little bit of a sociopath?, High School, Implications of Dirk's Reputation, Just for the record lmao, M/M, Minor John Egbert/Dirk Strider, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Off-color jokes, Specifically a history lesson on the Great Depression and WW2, Temper Tantrums, Trans Dirk Strider, Tutoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-04-18 13:58:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14214639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafStitch/pseuds/LeafStitch
Summary: Speaking of brats, you can hear him coming down the hall. You brace yourself as he turns the corner, giving you a shit eating grin.“Are we going to hit the books, or are you here for the scenic atmosphere?”You just have to make it through the hour.His name is Hal, he’s a freshman, he has strawberry blond hair and freckles. You want to strangle him half the time. The other half, you just want to know what’s going on in his head. He might be a sociopath. He’s… something. Not something good, but something.





	1. 1. 11th Grade

Wednesday, fourth period, yet again. One hour until lunch. You just have to make it through the hour.

Your name is Dirk Lalonde, you’re a junior in high school, and you just have to make it through the hour.

After that, you just have to make it through the week. Then the term. Then you have that research internship and you’ll be doing what you want. And you won’t have to tutor anyone. Wouldn’t that be the fucking life.

But, no. It’s March, and you’re stuck, waiting for your Wednesday, fourth period appointment. And where are you waiting? The basement. They relegated you to the fucking basement. So hear you are! It really is the best place to study, with the ventilation pipes and wiring buzzing right above your head. It’ll be a great place to teach some brat English and history. Some brat will totally be able to focus here.

Speaking of brats, you can hear him coming down the hall. You brace yourself as he turns the corner, giving you a shit eating grin.

“Are we going to hit the books, or are you here for the scenic atmosphere?”

You just have to make it through the hour.

His name is Hal, he’s a freshman, he has strawberry blond hair and freckles. You want to strangle him half the time. The other half, you just want to know what’s going on in his head. He might be a sociopath. He’s… something. Not something good, but something.

“Chill, man,” you reply, “Get your books out, and maybe we’ll actually get some work done.”

Hal is failing English and history. You’ve already taken the classes he’s in, so you know the drill. You did well in those classes, and have fourth period free. Hal does, too. So now you meet on Wednesdays, and will get to call yourself an extracurricular tutor on your college applications. They’ll get a kick out of that. You think you’ve been helping with Hal’s grades. His near rant on the homoerotic subtext of _A Separate Peace_ was truly astounding. Didn’t get him a bad grade either. If you keep it up, maybe you won’t have to deal with him for the whole term.

You were lucky when you only knew Hal as ‘Dave’s brother.’ Dave’s in middle school, the same age as your cousin Rose. You used to only hear about Hal in passing, when Dave would come over. And then the term started, and Ms. Maryam approached you about tutoring, that there was a troubled kid who needed help with some classes. And that’s how you got suckered into working with Hal Strider.

“If you smooth out the big bitch ‘holier than thou’ attitude, maybe we’ll actually get work done.” He walks over and places his backpack down, sitting in the chair beside yours.

“We did jack shit last time,” you point out, “You flirted with me while I tried to get you to do your English work. So get your books out.”

“If you consider casual conversation to be flirtatious in any sense of the word, that says more about you than it ever has about me.” Maybe it was less flirting and him just being rude to you. He asked if you were in the circus, and when you asked why, he said it was because he heard that you juggled a lot of balls. You didn’t reply, just pursed your lips and sighed. He refused to focus on _Julius Caesar._ “And I don’t need the book. This is Challenge Mode.”

“You used several pick up lines. Get your books out.”

“Those were uttered with innocent intentions,” Hal says, looking directly at you, “How about you shut your whore mouth, Dirk?”

You take a deep breath, count to three, and exhale. “... What’s your assignment.”

“Chapter eighteen of the American History textbook.” He scoots a little closer, just a little.

“And your English essay?”

“It’s excellent. If Megido fails me, I’ll bring a pistol to school.” He takes the essay out of a folder in his bag, and hands it to you.

What the fuck. You don't reply, uncomfortable.

“Don’t even own one. Read the essay,” he demands.

“I’ll read it while you do the history reading.” He takes out his history textbook, flips to the assigned chapter, and proceed to rip of the cover page, tear it in half, and starts chewing on the paper. You frown. “Hal, I need you to focus on this.”

“I am focused,” he says, muffled by the paper, “I do well when I’m chewing. It’s a study method.”

“I _have_ gum.” Fifty more minutes.

“Gum doesn’t have the same texture.”

“Whatever. Great Depression. Read about it. I’ll look over your essay.”

Hal seems to turn to his book, so you start looking over the essay. He’s got the formatting down, at least.

Hal Strider  
English 9  
Mrs. Megido  
Due March 29th

_Julius Caesar_

 

Okay. He’s got that part down. Then you start to read the paper, actually read it. Hal completely goes off topic. The SparkNotes summary of Caesar’s death quickly goes off onto a tangent about how Hal would solve the issues surrounding Obamacare. Mrs. Megido’s classroom is on this floor, lucky for you. You get up, walk to her classroom, and ask her what to do about it.

“It’s not on the material?” she asks, like she hasn’t been dealing with him all year.

“No, ma’am,” you say.

She sighs. “You can grade it, Dirk. Make sure his grammar is correct, and that he keeps his arguments strong.”

“Okay. Thanks,” you say, starting to turn and go back down the hall.

“Dirk?” You turn around. “Make sure Hal’s doing okay. I think something’s on his mind.” Mrs. Megido worries about some of her students. You nod, but you know nothing’s wrong with Hal more than usual. You sit back down with Hal, just as he’s finishing the chapter.

“What.”

“She’s going to have me grade it for you.” You put the essay down and grab a pen.

“No. I disagree.” This again. You don’t reply. “It’s unconstitutional.”

“Nowhere in the Constitution does it say that a tutor can’t grade a tut-ee’s paper,” you sigh. His face starts to turn red. “She just wants me to make sure you spelled everything right and know what _Julius Caesar_ was about.”

“My grammar is impeccable.” He has, apparently, gotten rid of the paper he was chewing previously. “I did not do the reading, however.”

“Do you know the basic synopsis?” Forty more minutes.

“It’s a tragedy, about Julius Caesar. I hate it. I’d rather read other stuff.”

“It’s one of Shakespeare’s histories,” you correct, “About how Caesar was betrayed by his followers. They stab him a lot. You’re kinda violent, you’d like it.”

“Really?” He actually almost looks interested. “Seemed like a whole lot of goddamn hooplah to me.”

“What would you rather read?” You really should be grading his paper.

“ _Catcher In The Rye._ ” Of course. “Or, better yet, we can watch things. Such as the ‘90s _Romeo and Juliet_.”

“The one with Leonardo DiCaprio? Can’t say I expected that.”

“Did I fucking stutter, Dirk?”

You put your hands up in defense. “Not criticizing you. Just said I didn’t expect it.”

“I’ve also poured through _The Communist Manifesto_ enough times to break the binding.” Again, of course. “What’s your favorite book?”

You don’t have one. Not because you don’t read, but because you can’t read for pleasure anymore. You don’t have that kind of time. “I don’t know.”

“Contemplate while you grade my essay. Which is, to reiterate, spectacular.”

You roll your eyes, but start grading his paper. He’s missing some commas, has the wrong formatting for his quotations, and in his conclusion, he loses steam quickly. You mark these things with your pen, your orange commentary messing up the simple black and white of his paper. Every time your pen touches the paper, Hal twitches, just a little.

“Your thesis was good,” you say, looking up to him, “But the last paragraph lost steam in the first sentence.”

“Was I wrong?” He’s not happy with getting criticism.

“No, but your arguments weren’t the best. Everything else was fine.” At the top of the paper, you scrawl his score: 94/100.

“No.” Oh boy. Just thirty more minutes.

“You get a 94.” You don’t even look at him.

“No. I get a hundred.”

“No.” You really don’t want to have another one of these arguments.

“Put down a hundred, Dirk.” Did you call him a brat earlier? Yeah. This is why.

“No, you get a 94.” You really hate having these arguments. He’s petulant. He’s still a kid.

“ _No._ ”

“94.” Might as well try to reason with him. “I’m not putting down a hundred because your arguments became weak and lost the point, and your formatting was wrong on your quotations.” You look over to him, and see his face going red. He might have another tantrum. “I’ll bump it up to a 95. But that’s only because you’re smart and deserve at least a C in this class. Honestly? You shouldn’t even be at a shitty school like this in the first place.”

Hal visibly perks up. “Really?”

“You’re clearly meant for a STEM school,” you continue, changing his score to 95. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Hal quietly rocking back and forth in his seat; he must be pleased with your commentary. At the top of the paper, you write a quick note to the teacher.

“What’s that say?” He doesn’t sound as combative now.

“I’m telling her that it’s a good paper, despite not being on the assigned material. Did you finish the history chapter?”

Hal nods. “It was terrible.”

“Mhm,” you hum, “So, what caused the Great Depression? No, actually, what caused the 1929 stock market crash?” You did really well on this chapter as a freshman, you remember it perfectly.

“In the 1920s,” Hal recites, “There was a rapid growth in loans, bank credit, that kinda shit. The booming economy gave consumers a false sense of security. The sudden overwhelming debt and knee-jerk attempts to resolve this resulted in a sudden stock market decline and overall trash situation.”

You nod. “Good. How did this affect the worldwide economy? What was the effect in Europe?”

”Collapse of world trade, international tensions, collapse of foreign banks.” He counts them off on his fingers. “Unemployment rates were soaring in Europe specifically.”

He’s doing well so far. That’s a thing you’ve noticed about Hal. He may not like the information, but he absorbs it easily. “How did it affect Germany? What was the result of their part in World War I?”

Hal falters. “Um.” He’s about to drop the ball, you can see it. “A surge in nationalism, strong dependence and support for newfound leader Adolf Hitler.”

“No.” Hal’s face falls. “Germany’s debt to the US was so high that they fell into an economic crisis, to be ‘brought back out’ by Hitler.” He crosses his arms and huffs, frustrated at being wrong. You’re right, and he knows it.

“Textbook said what I said.”

Time for another fuckin’ life lesson. “You were wrong, and you’re gonna have to learn to deal with that. Everything else was fine.”

“No, the textbook said what I said. Go check.” You’re not gonna check.

“The textbook says what you said for ‘what was one of the reasons World War II started,’ not ‘how was Germany affected after World War I.’ Hitler didn’t rise to power until 1934, and we’re still talking about 1929.”

Hal looks fucking furious. “You’re a fucking idiot.” This again. You sigh.

“My grades and the fact that I’m tutoring you say otherwise.” Your voice is flat, bored. “I’ve also taken this class, if you’ve forgotten.”

“So?” he snarls, “We make advances in history as time ticks on. That means nothing.” That made no sense. You both know that made no sense.

“You were wrong.” Hal reaches across you, pushing all of this things onto the floor with one sweep. You take a deep breath. “You answered my question incorrectly, and are going to have to clean all of that up yourself.”

“I hate you. So much.” How many times have you heard this? A lot. “I’m going to remove your innards and jar them for all to see, for years after you’ve died.”

“Mhm,” you reply, taking this in stride. It only really shook you the first couple times. “Start small. Innards are a little extreme. You’re going to have to accept that you’ll be wrong sometimes.”

“I’m not wrong.”

“You were. And while you were correct on another front, you incorrectly answered the question presented.” His face is cherry fucking red. It contrasts horribly with his hair. “Take a deep breath. You’re gonna fuck up your blood pressure.” He looks downright murderous. “Stop looking at me like that. Just chill, man.” You raise your hands in a ‘calm down’ gesture.

“I am chill,” he grits out, “I’m terminally goddamn chill. I hate you.”

“You have already said that twice.”

“I’m going home.” Hal starts to pack up his stuff from the floor. He looks back at you, snarling. “You’re ugly, you know that? You’re incredibly ugly, it’s astounding. It’s statistically improbable that you could be that ugly.”

“Yet here I am,” you drawl, “And if you leave now, I’ll have to tell your homeroom adviser. You’re stuck with me for another half-hour, kid.”

“You’re a snitch.” He’s still packing up.

“Snitch culture is for fifth grade, dude. I’m responsible for you for this period. You’re stuck with me.”

“Fine.” He finishes zipping up his backpack, and sits back down in his chair. “We have thirty minutes to discuss how atrocious you are, then.” This isn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation. “You’re ugly. You’re annoying. No one likes you.” Okay, nothing you haven’t told yourself before. Nothing you can’t handle. “Do you even _have_ parents?” You freeze at that, but only a little. You can’t let him know he’s struck a nerve. “Probably not, because you were born in a test tube to see how ugly they could make a human being.” Maybe he’s bringing that up because he knows you live with your cousins. Maybe Dave’s told him about Rose’s family and how you’re there, too. He couldn’t possibly know about that.

You sigh. “Anything else?”

“You’re bad and shitty and garbage and I hate you and I want you to die.” It occurred to you at one point that Hal might have a crush on you. It’s these moments when you can really see it.

“Of course. But would my death get you anywhere? LIke, sure. You wouldn’t have to deal with having a crush on me, but that’s it. You’re a kid, dude. I get it if like… figuring out who you like is weird.”

“I don’t have a thing for you.” He’s going red again. “That would be like having a thing for a stray animal. And I’m not a kid! I’m fifteen. I’m grown.”

You try to not scoff. “...Sure.”

“I turned fifteen in December! Shut up!”

“And I turned seventeen in December. I was doubting the ‘being grown’ part. You’re impulsive and your voice still cracks.” You glance over at him. “Sounds pretty juvenile to me.”

“I’m not,” he insists, “I’m not. I’m not.”

“You still use ‘ugly’ as a ‘hard hitting’ insult.” Maybe you shouldn’t be egging him on.

“Alright, Dirk, here it goes.” Oh boy. You just stare at him. “Your personality is abominable. No one wants to put up with anyone so revolting. It's like making casual conversation with a politician, or an elderly neighbor who invites you over for tea. You will make no lasting imprint on this world.” Admittedly, this is a new tirade.

“I’ve created a semi-functional AI, and I’ve already had two Ivy League program offers as a _junior._ ” He stares at you, and, oh, shit, he’s starting to tear up. “You’re a kid. Fuck, dude, I’m still a kid. You got a lot of learning to do.”

He stands up and shoulders his backpack. “‘M goin’ home.” He starts to go down the hall.

“Hold on.” You stand up, and he turns around. “D’you... need a hug or something?” Hal looks up at you, eyes still watering, before he sniffles and nods. You feel kinda bad. You approach him slowly, and he wraps his arms around your middle. You awkwardly hug him back, but the bell rings and he pulls away, tearing off down the hall. The period’s over, he’s no longer your responsibility, you can go to lunch. You’ll see him again next Wednesday, it’ll be more insults and arguing, and maybe you’ll help improve his grades.

Now, though?

You’ve got other things to do.


	2. 2. 9th Grade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a small flashback chapter before other plot stuff, the first mention dirk gets of hal

You’re Dirk. You’re _Dirk. You_ are Dirk. Officially. Legally. You’re Dirk. It’s the name you write at the top of your worksheets. It’s the name you’re starting high school with, and that you’re keeping. You’re Dirk, you’re fourteen, you’re in high school and you have homework.

You’re Dirk and you’re sitting at your kitchen counter, your name at the top of your geometry worksheet, listening to your cousin Rose talk to a boy named Dave. You think he’s her best friend, you’re not quite sure.

“Hal’s in detention for, like, all week,” Dave’s saying, and out of the corner of your eye, Rose nods. You find the hypotenuse of the next triangle. “He was like, ‘Yeah, Dave, I’m gonna write Mr. Noir an email telling him he’s a sad, sorry little clown and it’ll be signed from Ms. White.’ and then he did it and she caught him.”

“Sounds like quite the troublemaker,” Rose muses, ever eloquent for an eleven-year-old.

“He’s _sooo_ cool,” Dave says.

You continue working on your homework. You hear footsteps behind you, and a pair of arms settle around your neck, a chin resting on your shoulder. Pink hair tickles your cheek.

“Heya Dirky,” Roxy says, looking at your homework, “Triangles again?”

“Yeah,” you say, writing in another answer.

“Mhn, I hated this unit,” she says, pointing at one of the triangles on your page, “Stitch used this last year, I remember this question.”

“It _is_ pretty tedious,” you hum. Roxy’s a year older than you, and Rose is still in elementary school. And you live with them. And Dave is here sometimes - he has strawberry blond hair and a pair of aviator sunglasses he seems to never take off. You think he has some sort of photosensitivity problem.

“... an’ Hal’s in the middle school now, so he’s real busy.”

“I’ve heard middle school is considerably more challenging than what we’ve done so far,” Rose says, “I can’t wait.”

“You’re a freakin’ bookworm, Rose. You know that? You’re a big freakin’ bookworm.”

You snort, and wonder what Dave will be like when he discovers he can use real swear words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more will be coming! somewhere down the line: dirk realizes hal has skipped a grade, dirk realizes hal goes to his college, hal..........is, once again, Like That


	3. 3. 12th Grade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk finds out Hal has skipped a grade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember what I said about Dirk having a reputation? Yeah

You’re Dirk, you’re eighteen, you’re starting your second term of senior year, which means you’re starting a new elective class. You’re pretty chill, y’know? You’re headed to a good college, you don’t have to take high school exams for the rest of your life, you’re living life. You have a rib tattoo. You have a nose piercing. You’re the coolest motherfucker on the planet, with your nose stud, transition-lens glasses, and sweater vests.

You sit down for your first Advanced Coding class and look around. You recognize some kids from your Intro class - they must be doing the same thing you did: take Intro sophomore year, take Advanced senior year. It’s only for juniors and seniors, though. It didn’t fit with your schedule last year, so here you are.

Someone sits next to you, gets out their laptop, and opens up a small project. You glance out of the corner of your eye at their project. The program isn’t running, but their code has all the different sections in separate colors, which you appreciate. You watch them type, still not looking at their face.

“Look at your own computer, Dirk.” You startle and look at the kid’s face. This isn’t possible. This shouldn’t be possible. 

“You’re a sophomore,” you say intelligently.

“Tested out,” Hal says, shrugging. He gives you a wicked grin. “Guess your tutoring helped, huh?”

You take a deep breath and sigh, pushing up your glasses and rubbing the bridge of your nose. “I suppose.” 

The teacher comes in as Hal leans over to say something more to you, giving you welcome respite once again from your former tut-ee. Previously, you only had to deal with Hal Strider, freshman, for one hour each week. Now, you realize, you’ll be dealing with Hal Strider, junior, for one hour three times each week.

* * *

 

Time passes for you. Hal’s desk seems to move an inch closer to yours each class. “It helps me see the board better, it’s so I can read what Captor is writing,” the same bullshit each time. 

“This is a better angle for me to work at,” he says one day, a few weeks in, elbow on your desk as he types. You see him add something into his code in quotation marks. It’s the print line function. Oh boy. He looks at your screen, types something, and runs his program. The window opens with nothing on it, but Hal shows you the screen anyway. “Is this how you do it?” he says, pointing to his text box.

_ You have a very noticeable hickey. _

You instinctively clap your hand over the base of your throat, only to find that any marks you might have are covered by your shirt collar. You feel your face flush.

“Y-yeah, that’s exactly how you do it,” you croak, clearing your throat. 

“Dirk, have you been helping Hal with this assignment?” Mr. Captor comes over and looks at Hal’s screen. Hal has exited his program and scrolled away from any rude phrases.

“Yeah, he’s been really helpful. Reminded me of the interpolation stuff I wasn’t quite getting.” Captor smiles and nods, going over to help another student. Hal smirks at you again, typing something else into his print line command and running the program.

_ Heard you were Cal Umbrage's plus-one at the party on Friday. _

“Shut up,” you say out of the corner of your mouth.

“You’re not denying it,” he says, equally quiet. You’re not blushing. You’re not. You ignore him and turn back to your own work.

The bell rings at the end of class, and you quickly pack up your stuff and exit the classroom. Hal is, as always, not far behind you. Not only do you share a class, but you share a lunch period with him. Hal walks up beside you. He’s gotten taller since last year; now he’s taller than you. That makes you frown a little.

“Hey Dirk,” he says, casually walking beside you, “About that party…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say, keeping your eyes forward.

“No? I heard you talking about it earlier with that Jade girl.”

“Rather,” you continue, “I don’t want to talk about it with  _ you. _ It’s none of your business.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see Hal frown and cross his arms, but he keeps walking at your pace. You spot some of your friends at a table in the lunchroom and go to them. 

Hal leaves you alone for the rest of the day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time: college, probably


	4. 4. College, Sophomore Year (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> college, part 1

As always, you're Dirk. You're Dirk, you're nineteen and a half, you're a sophomore in college, and you're registering for classes today. 

You managed to score the single in a suite this year. You really do not know how you managed that. Yeah, you have four other roommates, but you've got the single. The rest of them have to share. As you exit your bedroom, Jane waves from the kitchen. She's already making use of the stovetop, you see. Pancakes, by the looks of it.

“Save me a few?” you ask, and Jane laughs.

“Chocolate chip?” You are so fucking glad Jane accepted being in a suite with you and Roxy this year.

“You know it.”

You pull on your shoes and exit your dorm room, the door locking behind you with a  _ click.  _ You make your way down the hall towards the staircase, glancing at the doorway decorations. 

Your RA chose a fruit theme, for some reason, apples and oranges and grapes and bananas on every door. You only pay attention to the names on the oranges. It's a habit.  _ Daria, first year. James, sophomore. Alexander, first year. Victor, first year. Mary, sophomore.  _

You reach the stairs and go down, the crisp September air much different than what you were used to back home. You begin the trek to the registration office in the library, hands in pockets, headphones not in for a change.

* * *

 

You return to your dorm after what feels like an eternity. All the first year events are done, and there is a group of kids coming up the stairs behind you, all chattering loudly. You get to your floor and open the door, walking to your dorm, keys in hand. From the staircase, you hear a few voices say, “Later, guys!” and exit onto your floor too. 

You walk towards your room at the end of the hall, glancing back. Two boys are walking towards one door, still talking. They seem to be getting along well. One has a near mohawk and about a million piercings, and you can't make out the other's features from your glance. You unlock your door and hear the boys behind you do the same, before one says, “Actually, Mal, wait a second.” You push your door open.

“Hey, excuse me?”

“Yeah?” You turn, and the boy you couldn't really see is walking towards you. He pushes his dark red hoodie back, revealing strawberry blonde hair. He's grinning at you, eyes mischievous. “You've gotta be fucking kidding me,” you say before you can stop yourself.

He was going into the room with the  _ Alexander  _ orange. People named  _ Alexander  _ often get nicknames: Alex, Al, Xander, Lex. Less common are nicknames like Sacha, a Russian boy's name. Even less common, though, is the one you're thinking of. 

You go into your room and close the door without letting him get another word in.

The kid grinning at you could have been Alex, or Lex, or Xander, or even Sacha. But no.

He just had to be Hal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time: college, part 2  
> was rereading and realized that roxy is also dirk's cousin - they just like go to college together. roxy and jane are juniors, everyone else mentioned later is a sophomore


	5. 5. College, Sophomore Year (2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao hey. its finals week so obv i gotta post this. i make no promises but hopefully ill get something out in january!

It’s November now. You’re not drowning in coursework, you love your physics professor, you’re getting back into art and writing. All in all, you’re doing fabulously.

And, best of all, you’ve been texting the guy you thought was cute last year, and he thinks you’re cute too. Actually, you two have been on a few dates. He asked you out at a Halloween party, actually. It was sweet. And to top it all off? You’re on a date right now.

It’s a nice night for a walk. You walk across the main lawn towards your building, and John (his name is John) is holding your hand. He’s pretty dorky, likes bad movies, and is majoring in biology. You sigh, breath coming out in a cloud in front of you.

“So, what are we watching again?” John says, nudging your shoulder. You laugh, swiping your ID to get into your building.

“Something good, for a change,” you tease, letting go of his hand to open the door. He follows you in and up the stairs, and waits behind you, a hand around your waist as you fumble with your keys. The elevator dings as you get your door open; some kids step out onto the floor, and you pull John into the room. It’s Friday night - Roxy has taken Jane out for a small party, Lanque is out of town, and Remele basically lives in the art studio anyway. In short, you’ve got the apartment to yourself. John sits down on the couch Jane brought once she found out the suite layout, propping his feet up on the ottoman.

You tell him you’ll be right back, and duck into your room to grab your laptop. Upon approaching your desk, you’re instantly glad you didn’t bring John in here. Roxy left a light pink sticky note on your laptop, with the words,  _ “have fun on ur date ‘,;3” _ written on it in darker pink pen. Beside the sticky note is a condom. You roll your eyes and scoff a little, putting the note and condom in the drawer and bringing the laptop back out to John. He extends an arm and you cozy up to him immediately, opening your computer up and pulling up the movie. It’s a little animated thing, something you actually like. John will like it too.

You’re somewhere into the second act of the film when John pulls you a little closer, rubbing your shoulder a little. You smile and lean into him, and he kisses your cheek. The movie is getting interesting, the heroes are continuing to gather information for the big act three fight. You know, usual movie structure.

There is a knock at your door. Three sharp taps.

You startle slightly, and John pauses the movie.    


“Lemme get it,” you say, walking over to the door. You open it, and Hal is standing on the other side. You may live on the same floor as this kid, but fuck, do you try to avoid him.

“What,” you say.

Hal peers past you, looking at John. His expression hardens slightly. He turns back to you, eyes innocent. 

“Something’s wrong with my computer.”

Bullshit. You say this to him.

“Bullshit.”

“No, really, something’s up with the screen and I can’t figure it out.” At this point, John gets up and joins you at the door.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, really casually slipping an arm around your waist again.

“My screen is fucked up,” Hal says, still staring at you.

“Is it really,” you say flatly, pursing your lips. He nods.

“I can’t figure it out at all.” He’s got that lilt in his voice that means he’s  _ sooo  _ innocent, look at him, all helpless. 

“Mhm.” You look at John, and back at Hal. Eventually, you sigh. “Fine. Just this once.” Hal grins and turns to go back to his room. John hands you your keys and you follow Hal, scowling at the little construction paper orange with his name on his door. You walk into his room - it’s just you and him, though the stuff on his roommate’s bed appears to have been used recently. “...Isn’t your roomie some hacker guy?” you ask, keeping casual.

Hal nods. “He just left.” Of course! Of course he did. You don't see Hal's laptop anywhere. “Was that your boyfriend?” You nearly choke on your next breath, staring at him. He's grinning again, that same devilish grin you remember from high school.

“No!” you say, almost too quickly, “No, John's not my… boyfriend.”

“So his name is John?” Hal sits on his mostly empty desk, looking at you. “And you're not dating.”

“We've… gone on dates.” Fuck, why are you telling him this. “But he's not my boyfriend.”

“So you're sleeping with him,” Hal says, and you feel your face starting to turn red.

“Why do you always want to harass me?” you ask, “You did it in high school, you did it when I tutored you, you're doing it now. Why?”

Hal shrugs. “I like to watch you squirm,” he says simply. You're done. You're done here. You turn around and march out of Hal's room, keys between your fingers. He doesn't try to follow. You unlock your door and go in - John is still on the couch, looking at his phone, but looks up at you.

“That was pretty quick. Figure it out?” He quirks an eyebrow at you. 

You shake your head. “Nothing was wrong.” He doesn't press you, and continues the movie. You have this uncomfortable feeling in your chest, and have a hard time settling down again. After a little while, you turn to John and say, “I- I think I need to be alone for a little.”

He immediately looks hurt - fuck, shit, you fucked up.

“It's nothing to do with you!” you quickly backtrack, trying to read his expression, “The whole Hal thing just has me a little…” 

After a second, John nods. “Okay,” he says, and you've totally fucked this up. He stands up and you reach after him, catching his hand. He smiles down at you, though, and gives your hand a little squeeze. “Don't worry about it, Dirk,” he says. You're worrying. You stand up and follow him to the door. “It's okay. You're feeling kinda weird. I'm not upset that you need to be alone.” You nod hesitantly. He puts his jacket on, and catches you for a quick kiss over the threshold. He pulls away, giving you a smile. “Goodnight, Dirk.”

“‘night,” you offer, and he turns to leave, down the hall, towards the staircase. You hear a door creak down the hall, and definitely don't miss the flash of strawberry blonde hair retreating back into Hal's room. The door closes, the noise echoing off the cinder blocks.

You close the door and sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time: new years


	6. 6. New Year's Eve, Sophomore Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> new year's, as promised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year! im here to drag the good things outta 2019 by the hair if i must! seeyall next time

New Year’s Eve, 9:00 PM. You’re Dirk, you’re recently twenty, you’re home for the holidays, and you and Roxy are lying on your bedroom floor with your heads side by side, staring at the ceiling, some soft music playing. The party downstairs was getting a little too noisy for the both of you.

“Rose said Dave an’ his brother are comin’ over about now, b-t-dubs,” Roxy says, looking at her phone. You groan, rolling your eyes.

“You’re kidding,” you say, turning to face her.

“No, seriously. You got somethin’ against Dave?” Roxy raises an eyebrow.

“Hal,” you say, and she makes a perfect surprised colon zero face that morphs into a sage nod.

“Right. Right, Hal.” She sits up, leaning against your bed. “”Yeah, he’s somethin’. Still givin’ you trouble?”

“He ruined my date with John last month.” You sit up as well and run a hand through your hair. Damn it. Fuck. Fine. 

“Mhm, I remember.” She leans against you.

“And- and John and I are still friends, but we’re not gonna, y’know, go on another date. Because Hal ruined it.” You sigh, and hear the doorbell ring downstairs. A sense of dread creeps up your spine. “He’s- He’s not even that big of a deal. He’s just annoying. He doesn’t even--” You sigh again, frustrated. “I don’t know why I let him get to me so much.”

“Dirk! Roxy!” Rose calls for the two of you from the bottom of the stairs. “Dave’s here! And he brought peppermint bark!” Roxy perks up at that. Apparently Dave’s peppermint bark  is to die for. You get up after Roxy, following her out the door and down the stairs. You see Dave and Rose talking by the snack table, people you don’t recognize chatting by the fire, and Hal. You see Hal. And he’s talking to your aunt and basically you’re going to die. He looks up at you and grins, and you feel a part of you just fucking die inside. You might as well be dead right now, here, on your stairs, in your own home. You turn around and go right back up the stairs, and you hear your aunt call after you. Too late. You’re upstairs. You’re in your room. The door is closed and now locked.

You were so good at ignoring him at school, but you can’t handle him in your own home? Fucking ridiculous. You lie down on your bed and stare at the ceiling. The ceiling stares back at you. You don’t know how much time passes before someone knocks at your door.

“Dirk?” It’s your aunt. You groan, get up, and unlock the door. 

“Hi, Roslyn.” You keep your face neutral. You’re in a stupid nice shirt for this event. You’re rolling your eyes in your soul.

“Are you going to join the party?” You sigh heavily. Roslyn gives you a look. “Should I take that as a no?”

“No, no,” you sigh, “I’ll join.” Roslyn nods and you follow her back down the stairs. Hal is still standing near the stairs. And he’s grinning at you. Again. You brace yourself and beeline for the snack table. You glance behind you as Hal walks up to the table. He grabs a plate, some chips, and a scoop of salsa. 

“Light blue is a good color on you,” Hal comments, not looking over at you. You grab a handful of pretzels.

“Don’t talk to me,” you say.

“Would this also count as me harassing you?” he simpers, sidestepping closer to you. You sidestep the same amount of distance away from him. 

“I think it would.”

“Pity, Dirk. We really could have been something.” You glare at Hal, before sharply nodding towards the hallway, somewhere the two of you can talk. He follows, scooping salsa into a chip and eating it. Once in the hall, he raises an eyebrow, crunching another chip. “So?”

“What do you want from me.” Hal snorts, eating another chip. “No, seriously. What do you fucking want. All you’ve done for the last, like, three years is harass me and ask me about my sex life. Why does it matter to you? Why do you want to watch me squirm?”

He eats another chip. 

“Remember that crush I had on you when I was in ninth grade?” A small piece of you withers. You nod. “Well. That’s it.”

You resist the urge to stamp your foot on the ground like some toddler. “Get over it, then. Make that your resolution.”

“You’re being such a child about this,” he says dismissively.

“You’re the one being a child!” you snap, “Get over me already.”

“Be my New Year’s kiss and I will.”

That makes you stop. Be his… New Year’s kiss? You. You didn’t consider that. You’re not considering that. You are pretty sure you’re not considering that, considering your last few New Year’s kisses. When you were thirteen, you kissed this boy named Tegiri from the anime club: he was your boyfriend, apparently, because you practiced your weeb Japanese together and watched the same animes. He said he liked the dress you were wearing to the party (you hated both), and when it hit midnight he kissed you. Not like eighth grade dating means much - you had your first kiss with a boy in kindergarten, anyway. Then there was that party when you were seventeen, the one you got really fucking drunk at, the one where you and Cal made out for probably the entire party. It’s also possible you made out with the entire party. You don’t remember. Waking up the next morning with a massive hangover was not your finest moment. There was a party similar to this one last New Year’s. It was nothing spectacular. Now Hal is asking to be your New Year’s kiss. You find yourself checking your watch for the time. 9:46, two and a quarter hours until midnight. At this rate, you may not make it.

“... I’ll think about it,” you say, and you walk off without another word. This is. This is fucking ridiculous, you’re acting ridiculous. You make small talk with other guests, family friends you barely know, and wander back up to your room once you can. 

Before you know it, it’s 11:50. The year’s almost over. You go back downstairs. A lot of people have left, but you see Rose and Dave on the couch, a heated discussion going on between the two of them over Dave’s tarot spread. Dave has the little booklet out and is pointing to some passage. Rose clearly disagrees with whatever point he’s trying to make. Hal is perched on the couch beside Dave, looking on with a smirk.

“I’m  _ telling  _ you, Rose, Strength is not the right card for me. I’m, like, 90% sure I should be Ace of Swords. Fuckin’ look at me, Rose. The fencing team. I’m ace at swords, make me Ace of Swords.”

“Dave. I’m the High Priestess for a reason, Dave. I know what I’m doing. And you deserve a Major Arcana card, even if you are ‘good’ at fencing.”

“She’s right, Dave--”

“Shut up, Hal, I’m trying to be right.”

“You’re not making a great attempt.”

“Dirk,” Rose says, calling you over, “You have a Major Arcana card, right?”

You nod. “I believe you assigned me the Tower.” Self destruction and higher learning through chaos. Of course.

“And you believe that fits you?” You know where this is going.   


“I trust your judgement, yes, O Mighty High Priestess.” You give her a small bow. She gives Dave a pointed look. As you come up, you see the clock. 11:53. Seven minutes until midnight. You haven’t had a good New Year’s kiss in some time. It’s not like you’re going to date him or anything, it’s just one kiss. You haven’t considered dating him, and you don’t think you would. He just turned eighteen, he’s probably trying to use that to pursue you. You’re not the creep here. It’s just one kiss. Your aunt calls you into the TV room with the rest of the party to watch the ball drop. You linger in the doorway as the countdown starts from thirty. The lights are off, the only glow coming from the TV. Hal joins you in the doorway, face bluish in the TV’s light. He points directly above you and you groan inwardly; the mistletoe from Rose’s mock-Christmas is still up. You don’t even celebrate Christmas, she did it to be ironic. She picked that up from Dave. But sure. Sure. There’s mistletoe above you. Hal takes your hand, and you lightly squeeze it, still looking at the TV. It’s just one kiss. 

“Ten, nine, eight!”

The year is almost over. The next year will be what you make it, you suppose.

“Seven, six, five!” 

Hal presses his shoulder to yours.

“Four, three, two, one!”

The room cheers as screen flashes a bright “HAPPY NEW YEAR” in neon letters. You turn and Hal leans down, catches your jaw with his hand, and kisses you. You close your eyes and kiss back, even briefly, before pulling away. You look around the room. No one noticed. You let your shoulders drop in relief.

“Happy New Year, Dirk,” Hal murmurs, and you barely nod, pulling your hand from his and escaping to your room. You have had kisses that haven’t meant anything before. You’ve kissed guys before without it meaning something. You don’t know why this one has you blushing like a schoolgirl, but without all the stomach butterflies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dirk: yeah hal's bothering me  
> roxy: :0


	7. Interlude: College, First Year

Surprisingly, you're Hal. You're Hal, you're a first year at a nice college, and winter break has just ended. The second term is about to start, and you need to find classes to sign up for. Dave helps you get all your clothes back up to your room, before giving you a hug goodbye and absconding to your parents’ car in the parking lot below. Kid likes to pretend he's too cool to admit he cares about you. As he leaves, you see your down-the-hall neighbor, Roxy Lalonde, come up from the stairs, a large bag over her shoulder. She waves at Dave, and waves at you when she sees you in your doorway. You give a small wave back and close your door. Your roommate hasn’t come back yet, but he’ll be here later today. You start to unpack your stuff, making your side of the room yours again. It’s good to have your own space again.

As you unpack, you think back to New Year’s. It has kind of been on your mind since it happened. You kissed Dirk Lalonde. Your fourteen-year-old self was flipping his shit, and, admittedly, you’re still flipping your shit. You saw that boy go into his history class when you toured the high school. You saw him walking towards you when you were failing English, and you realized he was your tutor. And you fell _hard._

You were, admittedly, a bit of a weirdo in terms of pursuing him. But that doesn’t matter. You kissed him. He might want to kiss you again. That part gets your heart fluttering every time.

You exit your room and walk down the stairs, intending to purchase a candy bar from the vending machine. It's been a long morning, you deserve it. You put a few dollars into the machine and stare vacantly at your options; the door opens behind you. You punch in your selections and the snacks fall to the retrieval; someone is waiting behind you. You straighten up and turn around; the person behind you has a duffel bag over his shoulder and a backpack that looks too heavy. The person behind you is also Dirk Lalonde. You're stuck staring at each other for a moment. Eventually you mutter a small, “'scuse me,” and brush past him to get back to your room.

You walk up the stairs, unlock your door, get a text from Mallek saying he'll be back around five tonight, and promptly flop onto your bed. That… was fucking embarrassing. You’re still that fourteen-year-old with a crush. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! we'll have to see where this goes lmao, back to dirk's perspective next time, but likely with no timeskip. i also might edit the chapter titles to reflect the passage of time a little better, since it looks like dirk's sophomore year includes a lot of drama and relationship nonsense ,';^) so well see how that goes. catch yall next time

**Author's Note:**

> for the record, i read a separate peace in 9th grade and we spent an entire day on if the characters were gay or not


End file.
